


the risk of fire

by Destina



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-03 00:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17274050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Destina/pseuds/Destina
Summary: Mr. Bush falls ill while theHotspuris at sea.





	the risk of fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/gifts).



> For muccamukk's prompt, _feverish_.

Illness was no respecter of persons, nor of war, and so despite urgent orders from the Admiral, the Hotspur was not spared the dreadful illness which followed her from port. One by one the crew fell sick, shivering and raving in their hammocks on a becalmed sea. 

To his eternal shame, William was the first officer to feel the effects. He woke one morning to find his voice gone and his legs weak as a land-locked sailor newly returned from a year at sea. In such a state, it would be difficult for him to perform his duties, but it was imperative that he try. 

"You will remain in your bunk, Mr. Bush, and that is an order," Horatio said, quite sternly, though there was an anxious look about his eyes William did not care for at all. He tried to lever himself up, but Horatio would have none of it, and set Styles at watch upon him. The man was good for little, but his loyalty to the captain had him perched on a stool at William's side, running for water and bringing the bucket when William's retching reached its peak. 

"You should...attend to the captain," William rasped, the sternness of the rebuke lost in the wasteland of his parched throat. "He will need...he will..." A wretched wave of coughing silenced him. 

"Leave off now, sir, and rest yourself," Styles said, "my orders is clear as day. Won't be budgin' until you're right again."

"I don't need your assistance," William tried to say, but the words were air without sound, and he dropped his head back against his pillow, spent with the effort. 

He slept, and woke drenched with sweat, Styles' face swimming in his vision. The time passed, slow and slower, and there was a great heat upon him. 

"Careful," he called, "don't turn her into the wind! Horatio!"

"Here, William," came his captain's voice, though he couldn't remember Horatio settling at his side. 

"She'll burn, don't you see," William said miserably. 

"Yes, of course you're right," Horatio answered. "You so often are. But don't concern yourself. I have it all in hand."

"You mustn't tire yourself," William said, "nor waste time here. The crew, Horatio!"

"You are my concern, at present," Horatio said quietly. His hands were working now, unfastening Bush's shirt and pulling it over his head. When William shivered, Horatio pulled the blanket close about him. "A moment more and we'll have you warm again." 

"No," William whispered, but he'd lost the thread, and couldn't remember what he'd wanted to warn Horatio about. Only the sense of danger remained, even while Horatio bathed him with a damp cloth as if nothing was amiss. The captain was speaking in quiet tones to someone else, someone who no doubt could help him and stand at his side. It was fitting, really. Bush had never been as great a help to him as he might have hoped. Horatio should have chosen more wisely. If only William could have told him. How great his affection was. How true his devotion. But it would never be enough. 

"William," Horatio said hoarsely. His fingertips pressed briefly over Bush's lips, though Bush could not remember speaking. "For once in your life, think of your own needs, and try to rest. Please." 

Bush turned his head to see Horatio's face, but the lamp light seared his eyes, and he cried out. 

"What can be done, doctor?" Horatio's voice, sounding so much older than his years. 

"He'll weather it, captain. Most of the men will. It'll be a trial, but they'll come through." The surgeon, whose capabilities William had no reason to doubt; if he said all would be well, there was a chance of it being so. 

Gentle hands slid a dry shirt onto William's body, and then those same hands clasped his own. He had seen those clever fingers on the glass and at the ropes, doing what the men did, for he was not above them. Never above them. 

Thus anchored, William allowed himself to drift, and finally to sleep. 

It was several more days before clarity returned and the delirium of fever passed. William discovered he had been moved to the captain's quarters, and Horatio had been sleeping in the chair formerly occupied by the watchful Styles. So many days William had been neglectful of his duties. It weighed upon him, and motivated him to his feet. 

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience, sir," William said, as he navigated his way to the back of the great cabin, where the night sky and its stars were visible through the glass. 

"That is the last thing you could ever be." Horatio was watching him closely; the intensity of his scrutiny made William acutely aware of his weakness. 

"How has the crew fared?" 

"Well enough. We lost only one. We isolated you here, and moved the sickest into your quarters. That strategy proved useful, in the end." Horatio rose from his place by the table and stretched, though his gaze remained upon William, who could not bear to meet it. 

"Sir, I may have said...while I was indisposed...I was not myself." 

"Were you not?" Horatio moved to the door, and secured it, an extraordinary measure on a ship where no one, not even the captain, was ever truly alone. "For I believed your words to be truest when you were not capable of pretense." 

He was discovered, then. Strangely, the shame which should have covered him was absent; perhaps it had been burned away with the fever. 

"Do you still find the light unbearable?" Horatio asked softly. 

"Not so much as it was before." William lifted his head, and saw Horatio, dear and familiar, in his shirtsleeves, rumpled and weary. 

"Perhaps the light is well enough, but the risk of fire aboard ship is still very great," Horatio said. He turned down the lamp on the desk, leaving the moonlight glittering against the glass and cutting bright over William's skin. "We must take care."

"Always," William murmured, as Horatio's arms enfolded him.


End file.
